


where the snakes get born

by coloredink



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Backstory, Food, Food Porn, Food is People, Gen, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Non-Chronological, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 01:18:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4502238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloredink/pseuds/coloredink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You've been very honest with me," said Hannibal.  "Since our first meeting.  Moreso, perhaps, than is wise for an escort."</p><p>Will shrugged.  "You're the one who's paying an obscene amount of money for exclusivity."</p><p>"I wonder why, that's all," said Hannibal.  "How it is that you feel you can speak so freely in my presence."</p>
            </blockquote>





	where the snakes get born

**Author's Note:**

> pretty sure this is [emungere](http://archiveofourown.org/users/emungere)'s fault, but she betaed it so i guess that makes it okay?

iii.

"I'm experimenting with making my own sausage," Hannibal explained as he presented Will with a plate of four oval slices. "They are all mixtures of pork and veal; the variation is in seasoning and spice. Please taste them and let me know what you think."

He poured tea from a blue china teapot into two porcelain cups. White steam curled into the air above. Will picked up his fork and cut one of the sausage slices in half with the tines. As before, he paused between each bite to cleanse his palate with a sip of tea. It was very expensive tea--$20 for 100 grams from a tea shop in Washington D.C.--but Will did not remark on it.

"This one." Will tapped the upper right corner of the plate with his fork. "The white one."

"Weißwurst, a traditional Bavarian sausage made from minced veal and pork, flavored with parsley, lemon, mace, onions, ginger, and cardamom." Hannibal took his empty plate and refreshed Will's cup of tea. "It's the lack of nitrates that make it white."

Will shrugged. "Well, I liked it. The rest were good too, but that one was my favorite."

The menu that evening: cold salad of shredded marinated pig's ear and jellyfish; sautéed water spinach with garlic and soy sauce; a whole steamed black cod, garnished with slivers of green onion and ginger and a drizzle of seasoned soy sauce at the table. Will's eyes shone at the sight of the fish, and he told Hannibal about his past, following his father from boat yard to boat yard, all the way from Biloxi to Lake Erie. Hannibal's money was helping pay for an education at George Washington University. He wanted to work for the FBI, doing forensics.

"That's a shame," Hannibal said.

"Why do you say that?" Will put another forkful of spinach in his mouth.

"You're clearly a gifted profiler."

Will flinched. He still didn't look at Hannibal.

"Your profile of me, that first dinner, was very accurate," Hannibal went on.

"I just interpret the evidence," Will muttered. "It was there for anyone to put together."

Hannibal tilted his head. "I'd say that was more than just interpreting the evidence. You have a gift."

Will shook his head. "Some gift."

It would be appropriate, Hannibal thought, to make Will into sausage. Andouille, perhaps. He would make a delightful gumbo. Fitting.

\-----

iv.

"Who're you trying to impress?" asked Will as he tried to spear a rice roll without letting it fall apart on his fork. "Do you really need to know how to cook seventy different cuisines?"

"I doubt it will hurt," said Dr. Lecter.

"Huh." Will chewed and swallowed. "Didn't anyone ever tell you to just be yourself?"

"'Being myself' wouldn't help me achieve my ultimate goal."

"And what's your ultimate goal?"

"To be the talk of the town, the center of attention." Dr. Lecter's smile widened fractionally. "People will die for a place at my dinner table."

"Jesus," Will muttered. "Classic narcissist. You're really not out to make friends, are you?"

"Not particularly," said Dr. Lecter. "Are you?"

Will lifted his eyebrows. "This conversation's about me, now?"

Dr. Lecter pushed his chopsticks through the bean sprouts at the bottom of his bowl. "A young man such as yourself who turns to prostitution to pay for graduate school is a man with few resources. No friends or family to turn to for a loan or a gift, for help from a tight situation. Your determination to be self-reliant speaks of someone who's been let down before."

Will stared down into the dregs of his bowl of vermicelli. He forced his grip to relax on his fork. "You have a gift yourself," he said. "Maybe you're the one who should be thinking about profiling."

"Friendships require us to be vulnerable," said Dr. Lecter. "It means letting another person see who we really are. You can't be friends with someone you don't truly know. But you know others without even trying; you fall easily into the minds of others. You don't reflect; you absorb. You're always vulnerable."

"You're not interested in friends," said Will. "Does that mean you're not interested in knowing the people you want to impress? Or that you don't want them to know you?"

Dr. Lecter's smile twitched wider. "Very good."

"Quid pro quo, Dr. Lecter."

\-----

ii.

"The young man you sent me last night," Hannibal said. "I'd like to see him again. Next Thursday, at the same time."

"All right, give me one moment." Hannibal listened to the sound of keys clicking. "His calendar's open on that day, so that should be no problem."

"I'd like it to be ongoing," Hannibal said. "Every Thursday, at the same time."

"We can arrange that."

"And I would like it to be exclusive." Into the pause that followed, Hannibal added, "I'm willing to pay extra, if necessary."

"I'll have to consult with the employee and get back to you about that," the agency representative said, but Hannibal could barely hear her over the sound of his pager going off.

"That's fine," he said, and hung up.

He spent the next nine hours in surgery. It was past midnight by the time he emerged. A voice mail on his mobile said that his request was a possibility, and to call back to discuss terms with the agency. Hannibal drove home, stood under the hot spray until it began to go cold, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep for eight hours. The next morning, he called the agency and agreed to pay a ludicrous amount of money for the pleasure of one young man's company three hours a week.

That weekend, he killed a hitchhiker.

\-----

v.

"If you really want to be the talk of the town," said Will, "you should really dress differently."

Hannibal looked down at his charcoal suit. It was bespoke, one hundred percent worsted wool, and had cost him nearly ten thousand dollars.

"It's a nice suit," said Will. "The tie alone probably cost more than my entire outfit."

Will appeared to only own two suits. Hannibal's navy blue tie was one hundred percent silk and might well be worth both of them combined. "It's very possible."

"But it's not very memorable," said Will. "It looks like every other suit worn by a lawyer or politician or businessman. If you want your dinner parties to be memorable, you have to dress the part."

Hannibal cocked his head. "And what part is that?"

"You're European," said Will. "You should use that to your advantage."

Hannibal felt his lips twitch, almost against his volition. "You make it sound like theatre."

"Aren't you the one treating it like theatre?"

"Perhaps." Hannibal laid his knife and fork parallel to each other on his banana leaf, smeared with the remnants of curry and coconut rice. "We're always performing, to some degree. We perform the roles that others expect of us and the selves that we wish to project into the world. I wish to perform the role of the gracious host, as much as you wish to perform the role of student, or charming escort, or whatever it is that you perform."

"Honestly? I don't _want_ to perform anything," said Will. "I just want to be left alone."

"Then perform that," said Hannibal. "Be a little more rude. Off-putting. Perhaps you should consider wearing glasses. Armor against those who want to see you."

Will's gaze slid to the side for a moment. One corner of his mouth lifted up, and when his gaze slid back to Hannibal it was half-lidded, so that he looked up at Hannibal through his eyelashes. When he spoke it was in nearly a purr, with none of his usual diffidence. "But don't you want to see me, Dr. Lecter?"

\-----

vii.

Dr. Lecter was wearing a polo shirt and khakis. He was also wearing a blank, slightly baffled expression.

"Uh," said Will, feeling overdressed for the first time in his life. "Am I not supposed to be here?"

Dr. Lecter muttered in a language Will didn't recognize, but he knew a curse word when he heard it. "I'm sorry," he said. His hair was damp, and he still smelled faintly of some citrusy soap. "It completely slipped my mind. Come in; I'll get you your money. Would you like a drink?"

"I can leave," said Will.

"No, no; I owe you your money in any case."

Will followed Dr. Lecter down the hall. Exhaustion sloped every line of his body, and in the dining area he poured Will a glass of wine from a crystal decanter. "You should hold the glass by the stem, not the bowl," he instructed; Will adjusted his grip automatically.

"Something happened at the hospital," Will said. Dr. Lecter's gaze snapped up. The skin around his eyes tautened. "Someone died. You feel like it's your fault--but this can't be the first time a patient's died."

Dr. Lecter didn't reply, but neither did he leave. He stood there as Will swirled his wine in his glass. Will put one hand in his pocket, then took it out again. He didn't sit, and neither did Dr. Lecter.

"She was only a child," said Dr. Lecter.

"Oh."

Will jerked his glass toward his face and took a too-large gulp of his wine. Dr. Lecter said, "I have the cash prepared. It'll take a few moments."

"Have you eaten?" Will blurted, light-headed from wine or something else, he wasn't sure. Dr. Lecter's eyebrows lifted. 

"No," Dr. Lecter said, drawing the vowel out into two syllables. "I only just got home."

"Then drink this," Will thrust his half-empty glass of wine toward Dr. Lecter. "And then we're going out. My treat," he added.

Dr. Lecter's brow furrowed, but he took the glass from Will. "That's extremely unnecessary."

"I know," said Will. "Come on. I'll drive."

\-----

viii.

The neighborhood became less charming the farther they left the Potomac behind, rife with weedy sidewalks and boarded-up storefronts streaked with graffiti. Plastic bags and discarded cups littered the gutters. Will parked in front of a dingy little shop whose yellow awning proclaimed HOME COOKING - SEAFOOD - OYSTERS - SOUL FOOD.

"How did you find this place?" Hannibal asked.

"I live around here," Will said. He rolled up the windows and turned off the engine.

Hannibal blinked. "This is quite far from campus."

"I didn't want roommates."

They went inside. The floors were linoleum; the lighting, fluorescent. There were only three tables, one of which was occupied by a gaggle of young men who reeked of marijuana. Will ordered and took a seat at one of the formica tables, and Hannibal joined him. He saw why Will had wanted him to "dress down" for this adventure: jeans, t-shirt, athletic shoes. He saw, too, why Will had insisted on driving his own car.

"I know this probably isn't your kind of place," said Will. "But the food is good."

"I look forward to it." Hannibal clasped his hands on the table and surveyed the fish paraphernalia on the walls. The venue smelled of grease and fried food; he could hear sizzling behind the counter and the faint strains of contemporary music. The teenagers at the next table burst into sudden, strident laughter.

The cashier hollered Will's name, and Will got up and brought back a red plastic lunchroom tray. Steam wafted up from a cardboard box of golden-fried fish filets, which were surrounded by small lumps of fried batter. There were no utensils, but Will had brought a thick stack of cheap white paper napkins.

"Dig in," said Will. "Careful, it's gonna be hot."

The crust on the catfish broke with a satisfying crackle between Hannibal's teeth. It was well seasoned, crisp without being greasy, the white flesh flaky and tender. White steam curled into the air from between his fingers, and Hannibal sucked cool air in between his teeth as he chewed and swallowed. He caught Will's eye; Will looked down and away, but he smiled. The expression was as genuine as it was startling.

"It's very good," Hannibal said.

Will seemed unable to rid his face of its smile. "Never thought I'd see you eat with your hands."

Hannibal hated the sensation of sticky hands; had done ever since he was a child. He twisted one of the flimsy paper napkins between his fingers before picking up one of the small fried batter-balls to try next. "This night has been full of surprises."

\-----

ix.

"This will be our last meal together," Dr. Lecter announced, as he poured the wine.

That explained why there hadn't been a taste test at the beginning of this one. Dr. Lecter had been cycling through some of the same cuisines, of late: Chinese, Vietnamese, Indian, Thai, with subtle variations in the recipes that Will couldn't even detect but that Dr. Lecter seemed to find satisfying. Tonight, however, it was French, if the first course of onion soup was anything to go by.

"Do you feel ready?" Will asked.

"More than ready. The invitations have been written and go out in the mail tomorrow." Dr. Lecter broke the toast on his soup into manageable chunks with his spoon. He glanced up at Will. "I feel as if I ought to thank you."

Will shrugged. "You were paying me."

"Nonetheless; you were invaluable." Dr. Lecter took a bite of his soup and swallowed. "What about you? What of your plans for the future?"

Will had gone driving, the other night, out in a part of Virginia that still felt like countryside. He'd passed by a dilapidated white farmhouse, set a ways back from the road, and fallen in love. "Same old. Finish school, get my degree, work for the FBI."

"In the lab?"

"For now. I mean, who knows. Plans change." The cheesy toast gave a satisfying crunch between Will's teeth.

"Indeed." Dr. Lecter's spoon clinked against the side of his bowl. "I'd thought, initially, to have you at the dinner."

Will inhaled crumbs and coughed. His eyes watered. "Wh-what?"

"But I've since reconsidered," Dr. Lecter continued, his mouth curling at the edges. "Perhaps another time."

\-----

vi.

"You've been very honest with me," said Hannibal. "Since our first meeting. Moreso, perhaps, than is wise for an escort."

Will shrugged. "You're the one who's paying an obscene amount of money for exclusivity."

"I wonder why, that's all," said Hannibal. "How it is that you feel you can speak so freely in my presence."

Will chewed a mouthful of pad kee mao. The strips of pork strewn within the noodles were from a man who had once drunkenly vomited on Hannibal's shoes, but Will did not know that. Hannibal wondered what would happen if Will did know, and his heartbeat quickened.

"I guess it's because you don't seem scared," Will said.

Hannibal's eyebrows lifted. "Scared?"

"You keep calling it a gift," said Will, "but it hasn't been like that. It creeps people out. Scares them off. Sometimes it's useful, in the way that sometimes a bonesaw is useful, or a chair made of antlers. But it doesn't make it any less creepy to look at or be around."

"Not at all," said Hannibal. "I find you interesting."

\-----

i.

"Just one more thing," said Dr. Lecter. "What did you think of me?"

Will blinked. "What did I think of you?"

"Yes." Dr. Lecter gathered his hands behind his back. "What was your impression of me, based on this house, this meal, what we talked about during dinner?"

Will scratched the back of his neck. Hell, he already had the money. They were probably never going to see each other again. He stood up straight and looked Dr. Lecter right in the eye. It gave him chills, like the cat had decided he was food after all, and he dropped his gaze to the collar of Dr. Lecter's shirt. 

"You're rich. Like, incredibly rich. This neighborhood isn't the most expensive, but it's not the worst, either. This is a really nice house, like the kind people have on TV. Everything looks really expensive. Your suits clearly are. But you're lonely." He swallowed. "You don't have any friends. If you did, you'd have them over to try your curry and your paté. Instead you're hiring people off the Internet. You know how to talk to people, how to act, but it's like you're...trying it out. Trying out how to be the kind of person who has people over for dinner parties, so you can make friends with them. You're a social climber. You're smart, obviously, but maybe a little too smart. Maybe it makes everyone else seem boring." Will took a deep breath and looked off to the side.

After a lengthy pause, Dr. Lecter opened the door. "Good night, Will," he said, and Will escaped into the cold, clarifying air.

\---end---

**Author's Note:**

> [coloredink.tumblr.com](http://coloredink.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [sumiwrites.wordpress.com](https://sumiwrites.wordpress.com/) (if you wanna see the books I've written)


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